


Three’s a Crowd

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon compliant (well...), Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, F/M, M/M, Oil as Lube, PWP, Rimming, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, kinkmeme promptfill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 01:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16007330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Emma is curious about the coupling of two men, and since she was brash enough to bring it up to them, Goodnight and Billy offer to let her watch.Note: Re-posted works from the Magnificent Seven kink meme.





	1. An Adequate Performance

**Author's Note:**

> This pwp shot was originally a promptfill for the following prompt (spoilers):  
>  _Emma is curious about the coupling of two men, and since she was brash enough to bring it up to them, Goodnight and Billy offer to let her watch. She's visibly aroused by it and touches herself none too subtly, and Goodnight, being the gentleman he is, beckons her closer as he's getting fucked and helps her along with his mouth._
> 
> It's reposted here on a reader’s request. I hope you don’t mind me staying anonymous.

“So. How does it work?“

All her life, Emma Cullen had been a brash woman – and with good reason. She was raised on a farm far away from the next town, by a father who taught her how to shoot a rifle when she had just turned four, and a botanist’s daughter for a mother, who spent her adolescence sneaking into her uncle’s library to read the works of Marco Polo, Georges Cuvier, Jean-Baptiste de Lamarck and Alexander von Humboldt. Every night she told Emma about those books, recounted adventures had by brave men she never knew but admired regardless, for their courage and the great risks they took to understand this world.

When Emma was older, her mother recounted her childhood in England: kings and raging storms and ruins so old only God himself knew when they had been built. Later came the terrifying journey across the Atlantic ocean towards a new future and a husband who understood the gnawing curiosity, the _need to know_.

They taught Emma to speak her mind, to follow her heart – and her nose – and to always trust her own eyes more than the words of a preacher. On Sundays, the people at church called her uncouth and ill-bred, her behavior unfitting for a girl. But Matthew Cullen – soft-spoken, honest Matt with a heart of gold – had appreciated her stories, so much he had married her, gleefully proclaiming that with a wife like Emma he would never get bored. They had moved to Rose Creek soon after: a sunny, peaceful place to raise their children. Only that it hadn’t stayed peaceful for long.

Emma squelched the painful memories. “Two men coupling, I mean.”

Goodnight Robicheaux – the one she’d been aiming the question at, figuring that she wouldn’t get an answer from his silent lover Billy Rocks anyway – choked on his mouthful of food. He leaned away to cough, turning crimson.

Billy shot her a dirty look and patted Goodnight’s back until he stopped wheezing. Interestingly enough, the “Oriental” hadn’t blushed at all, merely twisted his mouth into a moue of disapproval.

Once Goodnight could breathe again – thought still red in the face – he looked at Emma, but didn’t meet her eyes. “Mrs. Cullen, what you’re implying–”

“Do you do it like animals? Mount each other from behind?”

Another violent coughing fit followed, accompanied by an annoyed sigh from Billy. At least he didn’t go for the knives – but, Emma supposed, killing their employer was probably bad form even for an assassin. She signaled a waitress to fetch them some more beer.

When the girl came back Goodnight had calmed somewhat and was now staring at Emma with pink cheeks. “Mrs. Cullen, your questions are highly–”

“Inappropriate?” Emma finished, taking a sip of her beer, foam sticking to her lips.

“Specific,” Goodnight corrected. “But inappropriate too. How did you...?” He made a vague, encompassing gesture with his hand. “We’re usually very careful.”

Emma shrugged. “Woman’s intuition.” She wasn’t actually sure how she knew – she just did. Maybe because they reminded her of herself and Matt: silent glances, easy camaraderie, sharing everything, a quiet sort of intimacy in every interaction.

Billy and Goodnight exchanged an alarmed look.

“I don’t think anyone else noticed,” Emma said quickly. “You’re safe.”

“I hope so,” Goodnight mumbled, lifting his own mug. “I really do hope so.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, drinking and listening to the bustle of the saloon behind them: the clatter of cutlery and china, the gurgling of drinks, men coming and going, talk and laughter. Faraday was cheating his way through one card game after the other, Vasquez was telling tall tales to anyone who would listen, Horne snored blissfully into the edge of his table. Red Harvest was nowhere to be seen – no surprises there – and Sam had disappeared some time ago, a cigarette between his lips.

Emma licked the last drop of beer from the edge of her mug. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Goodnight, who had just been starting to relax again, hunched his shoulders like a startled deer. He cleared his throat. “Well, it’s not a question easily answered.”

“I fail to see the difficulty,” Emma said, arching an eyebrow. “Isn’t it a simple matter of... arranging body parts?”

There it was again, the blush. Up until now, she’d thought Goodnight Robicheaux a worldly man, because he certainly spoke that way, but now she felt the need to revise that statement. On the other hand, encountering open curiosity instead of hostility and disgust concerning this particular topic, from a woman no less, was probably a new experience for him.

“It’s not ‘simple’,” Billy said, opening his mouth for the first time since she’d arrived.

Goodnight nodded. “It’s kind of hard to explain... some would say impossible.”

“Even for an articulate man like yourself?” Emma challenged, chin raising. She had come here with a question and was determined to leave with an answer. “I find that hard to believe.”

“ _Especially_ for me.” Goodnight’s lips twitched. “I’m a gentleman, Mrs. Cullen, born and bred. Crudeness does not come as easy for me as it does for some other members of our... traveling party.” He glanced past her shoulder and she didn’t have to turn to know that he was looking at Faraday.

It made her smile. “Try harder, then.”

“We could show you.”

Both Emma and Billy gaped at him.

“I’m just saying it’s probably better if she knows what’s going on instead of having to rely on assumptions,” Goodnight added hastily, before either of them had a chance to recover. “You know? Demystify. Might help a poor chap one day.”

Billy considered that and nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“That alright with you, Mrs. Emma?”

She could hear the unspoken ‘last chance to back out’ in his tone and squared her shoulders. “Of course. When did you have in mind?”

Goodnight smirked. “How about right now?”

 

~

 

They ended up in Goodnight and Billy’s shared room, with door firmly locked behind them and the world dark outside the dirty window. Neither of them bothered with lighting more than the small lamp they had brought with them.

In the flicker of that one flame Emma could make out two beds, one devoid of anything but the mattress, its blankets and pillows piled on the second one. There was also a desk, beside the window, with a jug of water and two sets of saddle-bags.

Billy walked over to open his as Goodnight gestured at the empty bed. “Make yourself at home, Mrs. Emma.” He grabbed one of the blankets and handed it to her. “And get comfortable. This might take a while.”

She pulled the cloth around her shoulders and slid backwards accross the mattress until she could lean against the wall. Goodnight shrugged off his jacket and vest and placed both over the back of a chair, then got to work on his boots.

At the window, Billy was turning a small flask in his hands. The golden fluid inside sloshed lazily, coating the glass. Pleased, he placed it on the desk and started disrobing.

Goodnight, only in shirt and slacks now, walked over and hugged Billy, leaning in until their noses touched – and then their lips.

Emma had never seen two men kiss before, and it felt weird watching this, but only in the same way it would feel weird and inappropriate to watch a married friend kiss her husband, no matter how well they knew each other. Such things were not meant for other people’s eyes, were not done in public. But this wasn’t the “public” she reminded herself, this was a secluded room in which two men were about to have sex while she watched.

The thought, spelled out like this, made her shudder, a wave of heat brushing over her. She pressed her lips together and focused on Goodnight and Billy. They had moved towards the bed, kissing and nuzzling, falling into each others presence with well-practiced ease.

Emma’s eyes widened as she watched Goodnight lie down. She’d assumed that Billy would be the one to be... taken; he was the follower, always complying with everything Goodnight said, yielding and obeying. And he was, well, an “Oriental.” But instead, it was Goodnight who twitched off his pants and spread his legs in invitation. He had a nice cock, half-hard and cut, not as lean as Matt’s but as long, it would fill Emma up nicely were she the one over there.

Billy hummed in appreciation and crawled onto the bed, pushing Goodnight’s thighs apart to get a better view, hand reaching out to touch, acquaint – or more likely _re_ acquaint – himself with the feel of another man’s genitals in his hand. He spend some time just stroking, helping Goodnight’s rising cock along, transfixed by the pulsing hardness.

Matt had liked to do this too, Emma remembered, he could spend what felt like _hours_ looking at her, watching her go mad while he smirked, his eyes incandescently blue in the moonlight that fell in through their small bedroom window. By the time he finally touched her she was squeezing her eyes shut, shuddering at the warmth of his body, vaguely thinking that this was what they were here for, the _joining_ and _feeling_ and _fire_. For the first time she realized that it might not have been _Matt_ but a general man-trait, this need for a visual.

Once Billy had looked his fill – or just got impatient, judging by the way he absentmindedly cupped the bulge in his pants – he stood up again, shucked off his remaining clothes and grabbed the bottle off the desk. “Pillow,” he instructed and Goodnight nodded, stuffing one beneath his ass.

Drizzling the golden liquid – Emma just then realized that it was oil – over his fingers, Billy crawled back in between Goodnight’s legs and brought his greasy fingers to –

“What are you doing?” Emma blurted before she could stop it.

Neither man startled, reminding her that while they _seemed_ completely absorbed in what they were doing to each other, they were men of the road, always sleeping with one eye open, and more than aware that they were not alone in the room.

“Creating space,” Goodnight explained, voice rough with what she knew was desire as Billy circled a finger around his... his _hole_. “Women’s... insides are spacey and just slick themselves, lucky for you.”

Emma shuddered at the word “slick” because yes, she could feel it, wetness gushing between her legs at the sight of them, a dull arousal pooling in her lower belly. She shifted slightly. “It’s a different cavity.”

“That as well,” Goodnight agreed, breathless, and sighed deeply as Billy’s finger disappeared inside, and god, Emma could feel herself clench, suddenly wishing she had something inside her too. Slowly, as to not alert the others, she moved her hand beneath the blanket, pressing down on her pubic mound. It didn’t cool the flames, but it allowed her to focus on something else beside the emptiness.

Across from her, Billy pressed a kiss to Goodnight’s hip, cheek brushing Goodnight’s cock. “Breathe,” he whispered.

Goodnight let out a small, whiny noise and shifted on the pillow. “Yeah, sorry. I just–” He bit his lip and exhaled, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Can you–”

“Of course,” Billy said and leaned in to lick the swollen flesh, laving the head. If what they had been doing before was just wicked, this was positively _depraved_ , and a hot thrill ran down Emma’s spine because she knew what this felt like. The warm heaviness on her tongue, filling her whole mouth; the most dangerous and at the same time most vulnerable part of a man, delicate skin stretched over thick hardness.

Emma shuddered beneath her blanket, suddenly feeling much too hot. She pushed it off her shoulders, opening her own legs, not caring that they could see her now should they turn their heads.

Neither of them was likely to. Billy sucked down half of Goodnight’s cock and pushed in a second finger, causing him to gasp and hiss at the same time, squirming instinctively but without a direction to go.

Billy drew off with a popping sound, curling his free hand around Goodnight’s prick. “Let me in,” he murmured, and finally there was an inflection to his voice, something husky, a wisp of arousal.

Goodnight moaned, far more expressive, and rocked down onto Billy’s fingers a few times, undulating his hips until he suddenly jerked, shuddering. “Oh fuck, yes, _there_.”

Billy frowned in concentration and thrust his fingers in again, this time with more force, and Goodnight almost squealed with delight. His dazed, feverish blue eyes focused on Emma, who was furrowing her brow in confusion, and he leered. “There’s at least one soft spot inside every man.”

Emma arched an eyebrow at that, and Billy snorted. “Don’t listen to him,” he told her. “From here on, his jokes just get worse.”

That was probably the most she had heard him talk ever since they met, Emma thought, but couldn’t suppress the grin when Goodnight started to protest and didn’t get further than “I resent that!” because Billy hit that “spot” again and he had to bite his hand to keep from shouting, pre-cum spurting from the tip of his cock.

When he regained his breath, Goodnight tugged at Billy’s hair, pin slipping out and falling to the floor. “I’m ready, c’mon. We can’t keep the lady waiting.”

Billy pulled out his fingers, now shining in the lamplight, and opened the bottle again, this time dribbling the oil right onto his cock. So far, Emma had been busy watching Goodnight, but now she took a moment to appreciate Billy. She had never seen a cock before that didn’t belong to a white man. Though, to her credit, Billy’s was only the third she saw in her life. He was uncut but smooth, beautifully age-less, like his face. The hood had slid back a bit, revealing a glistening wet tip underneath, red with blood. It curved upwards slightly and Emma could just imagine how it would feel inside her, hitting her _own_ spot of pleasure, the one that was so terribly elusive that some days she doubted its existence.

Her hand was moving between her legs now, the tips of her middle and index finger squeezing around her pearl, making her shudder and clench and throb. 

Billy hooked his arms under Goodnight’s knees and pulled him up, Goodnight helping him along by wrapping his legs around Billy and steadying himself on the mattress. Emma couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect her position was, because from her perch on the bed, she could see _everything_ : how Billy lined himself up and slid in, agonizingly slow, how Goodnight clawed at the sheets, riding out pleasure or pain or both; the rapid rise and fall of both their chests.

_So they don’t do it like animals_ , she mused, watching closely, and then Billy’s control slipped and his hips jerked, sheathing himself with one clean thrust.

Goodnight mewled, tensing up like a bowstring, and Billy loosened his grip to lean forward and crush their mouths together, tongues meeting a moment before their lips did and Emma gasped because suddenly, she _knew_.

This was what they had meant, the _difference_. She had been wondering if it had just been modesty, or maybe shame, that kept them from talking openly about it, but now she could see it clearly. This was more than just a pleasant fitting of limbs. The way they looked at each other, touched each other... this was more. It required trust, the kind that was not easily given, and patience, and a gentleness which, in a man, seemed almost as outrageous as the act itself.

Goodnight relaxed beneath Billy’s hands and lips, accepting, getting used to the intrusion. They were still kissing when Billy started rocking them together, and by now Emma’s fingers were working frantically between her legs. The whole room smelled of sex, she felt high on it, and on the sounds they made, she had missed this, the closeness and intimacy, even if she wasn’t directly involved.

“My, my, Mrs. Emma...,” Goodnight gasped suddenly, and Emma blinked at him. She truly hadn’t noticed her skirt falling open enough for them to see. Now both men were watching her closely.

Emma could feel her cheeks heat up, but there was nothing she could do but face it. She made a ‘don’t mind me, carry on’ gesture. “Just enjoying the show.”

Billy smirked. “Obviously.”

“You know,” Goodnight began, then had to pant through another wave of pleasure as Billy thrust in. He beckoned her closer.

Confused, she got up and walked over, standing beside the bed. Goodnight’s fingers tangled in her skirt and pulled it off, then he pushed Billy away and out of him, turning onto his hands and knees. He patted the pillow. “Sit down.”

Emma crawled onto the bed, understanding dawning, and she was proven right when Goodnight spread her legs, open admiration in his gaze. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“And never at a loss for words, even like this,” Goodnight added, smiling fondly. “Have you ever been kissed by a man down there?”

“I had a husband, Mr. Robicheaux.”

“Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”

Before she got a chance to reply, Goodnight shuddered, and when she looked up she saw that Billy had pushed in again, and god, from this angle, the view was even better. Goodnight arched his back and she could see how they were joined, soft pucker stretching to accommodate Billy’s full cock, glistening with oil.

Emma felt the scrape of a beard on her inner thigh. Goodnight was nuzzling her, rubbing his nose into her hair. “You’ll have to excuse me, it’s been a long time since I last...” His tongue darted out, tracing between her folds until he found her pearl and she moaned, pressing against him. Lord, it felt so good.

Goodnight echoed the sound, hot breath ghosting over the swollen lips surrounding her vulva, and maybe there was something to staring after all because from here she could watch every single one of Billy’s thrusts, how Goodnight clenched around him and trembled, his hands twitching on her thighs. Billy himself was a sight to behold as well, his sweat-glistening chest, muscles rolling as he moved, all raw power, a coiled viper ready to strike.

He met her eyes just then, and Emma saw all the heated lust boiling inside him, everything he kept bottled up and carefully hidden during the day and maybe that was for the best, because it felt so intense: sizzling across her skin and down her spine, sparks turning into fire. She whimpered, using her fingers to rub her pearl when Goodnight moved down to thrust his tongue inside her and god, this was _too much_. Emma gasped, shuddering, and felt herself convulse around him as her orgasm pulsed through her, a hot rush spreading out from her lower belly. She grasped Goodnight’s hair and held him down, keeping him _inside_ her as the pleasure claimed her whole.

Lost in her own bliss, she almost didn’t notice him jerking, his nose bumping her as Billy thrust in hard, tipping Goodnight off the edge. His scream was muffled against her skin, dissolving into curses as he slipped from her hands, pressing his forehead to her leg. “Give it to me, Bill, come on. All of it, now.”

Billy rutted into him a few more times, then bit his lip and came too, much quieter than both of them, with only a whispered “Damn, Goody.”

He slipped out almost immediately, followed by a gush of white semen. It send another shudder through Emma, because this was proof, it had really happened. She’d watched and shared the pleasure of two men, one of the dirtiest taboos... only, it wasn’t bad.

There was a tap on her knee. “You all right?”

It was Goodnight, ever the gentleman, peering up at her from where he was sprawled on the bed, mouth still smeared with her juices while Billy rubbed Goodnight’s swollen entrance with his fingers, spreading the leaking seed between the cheeks. Goodnight looked absolutely debauched, thoroughly _fucked_ , sleepy and satisfied and very, very happy about it.

Emma wondered if she made a similar picture. She certainly felt like it. Stretching like a contented cat in front of a hearth, she leaned back against the headboard, idly watching as Billy got up and pulled on his pants again. He fetched the jug of water, poured some over a piece of cloth and began to wipe Goodnight clean.

“You might want to make yourself presentable again.”

Emma needed a moment to realize that these words were meant for her. She sighed. “Do I have to?”

“Unless you want to be found here tomorrow morning, I’d strongly advise it,” Goodnight laughed, lazily pushing his ass up into Billy’s hands. “But I appreciate the view.”

Chuckling and giddy from her release and how easy everything felt now, Emma stood and drew up her skirt, fastening it loosely around her hips. She was just about to say something when there was a rap on the door.

“Goody? Billy? Has one of you seen Mrs. Cullen?”

Emma’s eyes widened as she recognized Sam Chisolm’s voice. Frantically, she pointed at the floor. Goodnight raised an eyebrow at her. “No, we haven’t. Did you look downstairs?”

“Twice,” Sam grumbled. “But thanks.”

They listened to the clank of his boots as he walked away and only relaxed when they heard the stairs creaking.

“Well,” Emma said, “I should go.”

She didn’t want to, not really. Not when those two gorgeous men were looking at her like they didn’t want her to leave, like they _liked_ her being here. But she knew she had to, not only because she really didn’t want anyone to find her here.

“I should probably thank you for this very educational... _discussion_?” she tried, walking over and opening the door.

“Not at all, Mrs. Emma,” Goodnight laughed. “You’re very welcome back here any time you need... clarification.”

Emma shot him one last dirty smirk over her shoulder. “I might take you up on that, Mr. Robicheaux. After all, your performance was quite adequate.”


	2. Almost A Compliment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pwp shot was originally written as a fill for the following prompt on the Magnificent Seven 7 kink meme (spoilers):  
>  _So I'm basically just gonna go ahead and make my tangent a full blown prompt request: "I love the idea of her going back to have another go, I'm imagining full sex between them, her curious about anal for women, but wanting more and taking them in both her holes, or one of them fucking her and the other fucking him~"_  
>  _It doesn't have to be a direct continuation, you can even AU it if you want, but if you imply that Emma watched them once before and Goody ate her out that time, or just that they've done this only once before, I'll be happy. Also bonus points for cunnilingus or rimming (the latter of which can still be done TO Emma if you so choose)._

Emma Cullen stood by the window and stared at the meadows surrounding Rose Creek without actually seeing something. She had nonetheless put on a serenely thoughtful expression, since old habits were hard to kill. When she was a little girl and her mother found her idling, there was hell to pay. The price for _intelligent_ thoughts was not much lower. And the thoughts which Emma were contemplating right now were not intelligent by any means: she was thinking about Goodnight Robicheaux’s cock.

Ever since she left their room that night, after having been allowed to watch – and _join_ – his and Billy Rock’s sinful coupling, the images burned in front of her eyes, keeping her awake at night and making her blood run hot beneath the covers. Emma had never thought herself a wanton woman, but for the past four nights since the incident, she had not been able to fall asleep without satisfying herself first. But her own fingers left much to be desired, now that she had felt Goodnight’s tongue where only Matt had touched her before. Even for self-proclaimed lack of practice, his _talent_ had left a lasting impression. Emma sighed wistfully.

“It’s a little early to lose all hope, _cherie_.”

Emma flinched. She hadn’t heard Goodnight come in, but she could see his reflection in the glass of the window as he closed the door.

“I’m not losing hope,” she said. “Far from it. With all of you here, Bogue cannot win.”

“I admire your optimism,” Goodnight said dryly, hung his hat on a hook and shrugged off his jacket. “So, what are you doing here, if you’re not trying to commit the landscape to memory? This is our room, after all.”

Emma turned around to watch him sniff his armpits and felt oddly comforted by his lack of manners. He’d been nothing but obliging during the last few days, which felt more awkward than it had any right to be. As if he were courting her, which he decidedly wasn’t. She walked over to stand before him, and he stopped fiddling with the buttons of his vest to look down at her with blue, blue eyes.

“I was thinking about your co... _offer_ ,” she corrected herself at the last moment, for what might sound fine in her head would not be polite to say out loud.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, curling his lips into a lopsided grin as his eyes unashamedly swept over her body. “Is that so?” he drawled, and Emma’s insides tingled from the caress of his rough voice alone. She swayed and leaned into him, close enough that she could smell his sweat, no longer afraid of rejection as they were clearly on the same page. Smoke and gunpowder tickled her nose, and a hint of the cream he used to shave his beard still lingered on his skin, all of it coalescing into what Emma had learned to recognize as virility. She smiled at him and placed a hand on his chest to steady herself, feeling his heart beating beneath her palm. “But I don’t think words alone can satisfy my curiosity.”

He chuckled, a delightful rumble that made his chest vibrate, and his fingers came up to brush the edge of her blouse, touching skin and cloth alike. “My, my. You really are a forward one.”

“Fully and at length,” she agreed. “What use is hesitation if there is something I truly want?”

“And what might you want, pretty lady?” Goodnight asked, leaning in to press his nose to her neck while his large hands settled on her breasts, cupping them while his thumbs circled her hardening nipples through the cloth.

Emma gasped and pressed into his touch. “Do you really need me to tell you, when you so clearly already know?”

He laughed again, a bit louder this time but still pleasant, and without further ado caught her lips with his. They were chapped from the dry air, moving against hers far to chastely until Emma decided to take matters into her own hands. She rose onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around him, holding onto him as she pressed her tongue into his mouth. His breath quickened, rushing over her teeth like water, tasting of apples and tobacco and beer.

“You should have been born a Southern belle, my dear,” Goodnight panted when she let go of him to gulp for air, heady from the feel of his body so close, his steely muscles unyielding against her soft curves. “Proper gentlemen would be brought to their knees by your ferocity.”

“And you?” she asked, snaking a hand down his body to cup the bulge in his pants.

“I’m neither a gentlemen nor do I consider myself proper – not behind closed doors.” Goodnight pushed into her grip as if to prove he meant it, but then inexplicably let go. He pushed her backwards until her butt hit something solid – the frame of one of the beds – and positioned her against the foot-board with her legs spread, hiking up her long skirt until all of the cloth was bunched around her hips, then gasped as he saw that she wore nothing beneath it. Emma quietly dared him to challenge her choice of clothing, but he merely took a moment to admire her cunt, a dreamy expression on his face. “But nonetheless do I find myself captivated by your... _charme_.”

“Are you going to quote poetry at me?”

His mouth twitched. “If I thought you could be swayed by nice words,” he said, running a thumb along her slit, coating it with her juices. Then he cocked his head, looking quite cheeky as he peered up at her through his lashes. “But who can say. Maybe you will?” With a smirk, he leaned in, putting his tongue where Emma had so desperately wanted it the past nights. It danced across her sensitive skin, spelling out words she had no hope – or want – of deciphering, but they felt dirty nonetheless. Her hand tangled into his hair, urging him deeper, and he groaned into her cunt and let his tongue follow, making her body flush hot with excitement.

“Oh...,” she moaned. “Oh, Lord...”

An arm pushed beneath her thigh and curled around it, sliding in between her legs to join that sinful tongue, and Emma let go of Goodnight to fumble for the foot-board because her knees weakened at the added stimulation. He mumbled something and Emma leaned back onto her hands, gyrating her hips when Goodnight hooked two fingers into her wet cunt. His tongue lapped the moisture from her folds, moving upwards to tease her pearl, and Emma threw her head back as the pleasure crashed over her like a tidal wave.

He stayed with her during her peak, his tongue unmoving on her flesh without pushing her forward, but not allowing her to slide back, either, drawing out her moment until she stopped shuddering.

“You have a talent. With your mouth,” Emma said, blurry gaze finding the ceiling. “For more than just talking.”

Goodnight let go of her and stood up, taking her in his arms. “My dear, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Tell me...,” Emma began, head tipped back and her chin on his chest as she kissed his jaw, hands stroking down Goodnight’s sides to grab his ass. She felt him jerk at the touch, grinding his erection against her naked thigh, the skirt still up between them. Her juices soaked his slacks. “... are you still loose from taking his cock?”

Goodnight actually moaned. She gave his ass a squeeze, relishing how full it felt in her hands, and his head dropped to her shoulder as he started to shiver. “Billy opens me up every night.”

 _Every night._ A hot, hot spark of lust flared through Emma, erasing all thoughts of her recent release. She wanted, _needed_ , to see it again, both of them on the bed, the dark rim of Goodnight’s hole stretched thin around Billy’s fat cock.

“How does it feel?”, she whispered, wetting her lips.

Goodnight looked at her then, something different in his eyes now, something _dangerous_. It just made Emma ache harder.

But it wasn’t him who answered. Having snuck in without making a sound and now leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest and watching the scene with barely veiled amusement, was Billy.

“How badly do you want to know?” 

 

~

 

He moved like a cougar towards her, his foreign eyes all the more intense for their odd shape and dark color. Emma had known Billy was a predator, and one that didn’t take chances, but it hadn’t really sunk in until now, with all that inescapable intent directed at her. For a second she was glad that Goodnight’s body was between them, because Billy Rocks took what he wanted, and if he ever played, it would be on his terms. Then the moment passed and Emma’s own obstinacy reared it’s head.

“Men like to flatter themselves the middle of the universe,” she said, rubbing the base of her palm against Goodnight’s erection. “Each and every one of them.”

She said it to challenge him, but if she’d hoped he’d be offended, she was disappointed. Billy just bared his teeth in the most charming of ways and smiled. “You think you can just walk out into the saloon and find some other man to satisfy your depravity?”

 _No kid-gloves with him_ , Emma thought and tried very hard not to flinch. Billy stepped close enough to press his front against Goodnight’s back, staring at Emma over Goodnight’s shoulder, and the sharpshooter suddenly felt frail between them.

“Now, both of you, calm do–”

Emma twisted her hand without taking her eyes off Billy, and Goodnight broke off moaning. “There are certainly enough uncouth criminals staying in this town right now.”

“We came at your call,” Billy reminded her, sliding his hand around to join Emma’s on Goodnight’s cock. Goodnight shuddered between them, all his cocky confidence gone.

“You came of your own volition,” Emma shot back, feeling Billy’s nails sharp on her fingers. “And for what I want to give, I wouldn’t need to offer money at all.”

“Is that it? You want to give all of yourself to someone else, now that your husband is gone?”

 _Straight for the jugular._ This time, Emma did flinch. “I want to know what it feels like. Do not make this a bigger deal than it is.”

Only it was, somehow. She hadn’t been completely aware that this was the reason she’d come here, but with both men looking at her right now it all became crystal clear. Emma brought her free hand to her blouse and undid the lacing, letting the garment slide off her shoulders to rest on her elbows, chest bared. She knew she was good looking, her breasts large enough to be eye-catchers but not enough to drag them down in ugly ripples before she had born and nursed her first child. Intently staring at Billy’s face to not miss his reaction, Emma only heard Goodnight’s chocked “oh god,” and her eyes widened in surprise when his slacks dampened rapidly beneath her and Billy’s palms.

“You did _not_ just–”

“S-sorry,” he mumbled, leaning back against Billy slack-jawed and panting, slowly sliding off to one side without seeming to notice. Billy wrapped an arm around Goodnight before he could fall and kissed his neck; right where Matt used to kiss Emma, sucking up her heartbeat. “That’s morbid,” she’d say. “Like a vampire.”

He would laugh at her loudly, with that playful glint in his eyes that now haunted Emma in her dreams, and then he would pillow his head between her breasts and ask for a story. Sleepy and happy from their lovemaking, Emma would frequently indulge him, but not without teasing him first about how it was time for him to grow up. To which he would say that he’d have time for it when their first child was born, as if being an adult was less important than being a capable parent. But now, that child would never be born.

Pain sliced through Emma like the blade of a knife, only sharpening with each day that had passed since his death, since she had to watch that wretched weasel shoot Matt in cold-blood – oh, she would kill him, and if it was the last thing on this earth, she would see him dead. She clenched her firsts and fought down the tears. “Are you going to give me what I want or are you just wasting my time?”

“Your body is a big offer for a moment of oblivion,” Billy said quietly, his gaze resting on the unusually silent Goodnight in his arms.

“If you’re doing your job right, it will be more than a _moment_ ,” Emma shot back. She shrugged off her blouse and pushed the skirt down with it until it pooled on the floor. Then she opened her boots and stepped out of them. “Which bed?”

“Right,” said Billy, guided Goodnight towards and just let go of him. Goodnight went down face-first with an indignant squawk. Billy grabbed his hips and yanked his pants down a bit, just enough to expose his ass – those perfect globes of pale flesh, unmarred and nearly untanned. Emma’s mind automatically supplied images of the last time she’d seen this ass, bringing with them a hot rush of lust.

“Look here,” Billy ordered and parted Goodnight’s cheeks with one hand, exposing his hole, dark like she remembered but also wrinkled, loose, and slightly puffy, shining wet from the oil. _They must have done it down by the creek_ , Emma realized, biting her lip to keep from moaning.

Billy beckoned her closer and looked pointedly downwards, and Emma’s eyes widened. Hesitantly, she extended a finger, barely grazing the hole with the tip of it. It winked at her almost playfully, and Goodnight sighed softly, lifting his hips. Emma applied a bit more pressure and her finger went in without resistance, deep and deeper until the knuckle; Goodnight’s hungry asshole swallowed it all, sucking her into a tight heat that surpassed even her own cunt. Gasping, she pulled out her finger, curling it slightly without meaning to. It bumped something and Goodnight yelped; that must’ve been the sweet spot he’d been talking about. _One in every man._

Emma looked up at Billy and realized that he knew what she was thinking about, and his smile was tight.

“This won’t happen to you. Women don’t have this pleasurable spot,” he said. “Do you still want to try?”

“Yes.”

His mouth twitched. “Get on the bed. Goody?”

“Huh?”

“Undress. Get the oil.”

Goodnight tipped his head back and smirked. “So you’re in charge now?”

“Naturally,” Billy said. “We have a Lady to take care of, and your overcooked noodle would–”

He didn’t get to finish because Goodnight was on him already, looking like a feral cat as he tried to chase Billy down with his slacks around his knees. Emma hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time. It felt good.

Billy made Emma lie down on the bed on her back, like he had done with Goodnight the last time, and then leaned over her to cup her cheek. She turned her head into the touch, puzzled at his suddenly hesitant expression. “What is it?”

He traced her lips with the tip of his thumb, blushing slightly. “Can I kiss you?”

His shyness was endearing, and Emma nodded. “Go ahead.”

Billy brushed their lips together softly, closed-mouthed, and Emma curled her hand around the base of his skull to pull him in further, teasing him with her tongue. Exhaling over her lips Billy opened up for her, inviting her to dance, and when she followed him into his mouth he bit her. Emma pulled him back by his hair, dislodging the carved pin, and she had to put some effort into it because the long, silky strands slipped right through her fingers.

“You’re such a gentleman,” Goodnight commented, the bed dipping beside Emma where he sat down, now as naked as the two of them.

Billy let go. His hands moved lower and his gaze followed; it felt like he was devouring her, with his hands and eyes, leaving her skin prickling and longing for touch wherever he roved. He took both her breasts in his hands, rolling them in his palm like apples, and Emma’s supple flesh yielded to his calloused fingers without resistance, molding to fit into his grasp. Billy dipped down to trace her throat with the tip of his nose, rumbling contentedly as he followed the path to the dip between her collarbones and lower, _lower_ , until he could press soft kisses beneath her navel.

Emma’s hands where both in his hair now, massaging his scalp and urging him on, her pinky fingers brushing the back of his ears. She was not surprised when he bit her belly, soothing the spot with a lick. His hands left her breasts, albeit reluctantly it seemed, to stroke down her sides and her sharp hips, feeling the bones before he spread her thighs apart to move in between them. He met her gaze just then and held it, kissing her inner thigh, up and higher towards where she wanted him, each brush of lips a stepping stone across the freckled white of her legs. Tension coiled in Emma’s lower body already, she could feel the pleasure inside her but she knew from experience that it was too far out of reach for now. Nonetheless she tugged harder on Billy’s hair.

Smirking like a coyote he obliged her, opening her folds with his fingers so he could place his tongue on her pearl. Little shocks of pleasure rippled through Emma and she gasped, trying to lock her legs around him but he kept her from it, withdrawing. His eyes were glazed over. “I can taste you on her,” he whispered in a rush, hot breath tickling Emma’s pubic hair.

Goodnight chuckled and coaxed one of Emma’s hands out of Billy’s hair to take it in his own, pushing the oil that lay on the mattress closer to Billy with his foot.

Billy grabbed it without looking, returning his mouth to its previous occupation, laving her with spit and spreading the wetness that was already leaking from her. His tongue circled her entrance, greedily gathering up the moisture.

Moaning, Emma closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling, and when Goodnight whispered “kiss me” against her mouth she responded eagerly. His tongue slipped into her the moment Billy’s thrust into her cunt, and Emma let out a desperate gasp at the wave of pleasure that washed over her. It was not an orgasm but close, she could feel it tingling right under her skin. “Do that again,” she demanded, “oh god, do it again.”

They did, both of them, Billy’s tongue licking into her like a kitten lapped up milk, going a bit deeper every time. Emma felt herself pulsing around him, all sensation narrowed down to how he was spreading her open little by little. She could feel the peak rushing towards her and she reached for it, getting closer and closer to the fall until – Billy let go.

“No!”, Emma yelped, yanking at his hair so much he had to catch her hand to still it. “Get back here, _now_!”

“Patience,” he rumbled and Emma could feel the vibrations excite her, but not enough to grant release. Billy pressed a quick kiss to her opening and tilted her hips up, moving his mouth to... to... Emma’s eyes flew open; that was his tongue on her rim, his thumbs pulling her cheeks apart so he could persuade the muscle to open, but it wouldn’t.

“Steady now,” Goodnight hummed against Emma’s cheek. It took a conscious effort to relax, but she was rewarded with an immediate spark of pleasure when Billy’s tongue dove into her hole, a hot trailblazer for things to come, and it felt better than she’d ever dared to fantasize. Goodnight’s hand came up to roll one of Emma’s nipples between forefinger and thumb and it was too much. Her cry of joy was swallowed by Goodnight’s mouth, returned as soothing murmurs and sweet nothings as he held her trembling body. Billy drew back and substituted his tongue with a finger, longer and less warm but slick from the oil, not giving her hole a chance to close again. Emma whimpered, her muscles working around the intrusion: it felt strange, and alien, but _so good_.

“Don’t reject him,” Goodnight instructed quietly.

“I– I’m not,” Emma panted, shifting her legs to get more leverage to grind down on Billy’s finger.

“She takes it better than you the first time,” Billy said, smirking, and rubbed her rim with a second fingertip. “Now, this might hurt a bit,” he warned then before nudging her hole, carefully but insistently pushing inside.

Emma bit her lip and tensed because he was right, it did hurt. Enough to punch the breath out of her lungs. She had never touched herself with her own fingers, not even after watching them, and his fingers were bigger than hers but god, if they felt huge _now_ , his cock would...

“No no no, don’t overthink it. Look at me,” Goodnight’s voice cut in and Emma blinked blearily up at him. Billy’s fingers inside her were moving slowly, slickly, it felt better by the second. The dull warmth of orgasm turned heavier inside her, back to excitement with every one of his thrusts. It was different, more concentrated.

“Get on with the program, Rocks,” Emma hissed.

Billy cocked his head and drew out his fingers. “Hands and knees.”

“Why?”

“Because it will make the slide easier and I can take you deeper.” The corner of his mouth curled up, accompanied by the predator-glint in his eye and Emma rolled her eyes.

“Candid.” She disentangled herself from Goodnight and allowed him to assist her onto her front.

“Will you be alright like this?” he asked, arranging her legs while Billy uncorked the flask again and oiled his long, hard cock. It was just as exotic as the last time Emma had seen it: curved, flushed, the foreskin drawn back to reveal the swollen head.

“No woman out here is a stranger to scrubbing floors,” Emma deadpanned, watching Billy hold out the flask and pour some oil down the crack of her ass. It was warm, so Emma didn’t feel much besides a slightly uncomfortable trickle. Billy took a moment to rub his thumb between her cheeks again and lined himself up.

“Still not scared, I presume?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Of the pleasure you’ve given me so far?”

Goodnight snorted and Billy grinned, leaning over her to kiss her shoulders when he finally pushed in, achingly slow. At first it didn’t feel much worse than the fingers, thicker, but by now her hole was hungry for it, couldn’t wait to be speared and stretched until the girth of his cock surpassed the width of two fingers. Emma bit her lip and forced herself to breathe steadily through her nose because Billy wasn’t stopping, merely giving her a little more whenever she relaxed enough, pushing forward relentlessly. He filled her up until there was no space left inside of her, neither in her body nor in her head, she was burning up from the intensity of her own desire. Her cunt was leaking juices into her pubic hair, her pearl was throbbing, she wanted nothing more than for him to... to... “Move,” Emma ground out through grit teeth, fingers curling in the mattress. “Billy, please, _move_.”

Billy pulled his hips back and thrust into Emma with more force than before, enough to make her whole body shake and her breasts bounce heavily beneath her. She clawed at the mattress and moaned, getting down onto her elbows for a better angle. Billy’s large hands gripped her sides, steadying her as he snapped his hips fast and hard.

Goodnight brushed Emma’s face gently. “Feelin’ good?”

“You should know that,” she panted without looking up, the mattress was blurring in front of her. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a movement. It was Goodnight, lazily jerking his filling cock. Emma motioned for him and he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Mrs. Emma?”

She patted the mattress in front of her. “Come over here, I want to return the favor.”

“Return the–” His eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Emma said impatiently and curled a hand around his cock to tug him over – carefully of course – as soon as he was close enough. He leaned back against the headboard and spread his legs around her, scooting over until she could suck the tip of his cock into her mouth.

“Now that’s an almost familiar sight,” Billy commented breathlessly.

Goodnight curled over Emma’s head, reaching for Billy. She heard a wet sound and realized that they were _kissing_. While Billy fucked her, in her ass, on her knees, like animals did it. The thought was so dirty she felt light-headed, hot all over, and she let go of Goodnight and pushed him back until she could look at him.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Lie down,” Emma said, crawling out of Billy’s grasp. “Lie down now.”

Puzzled, Goodnight did as told, lying flat on his back in the space she’d just occupied. “What are you do–”

Emma put a finger to his lips and moved to straddle him, guiding his cock with her free hand until he was sheathed inside the slippery wet heat of her cunt. Groaning, Goodnight rolled his hips, not taking his eyes off her. From behind, Billy – who had obviously caught on by now – reached around to fondle her breasts, giving both of them a playful squeeze.

“Bend over,” he whispered hotly against her ear and Emma immediately complied. She wouldn’t last much longer anyway, she was trembling already. Goodnight wrapped his arms around her, hands splaying on her back, while she placed her elbows beside his head and tangled her fingers in his soft, short hair, breathing in his hectic little gasps of pleasure. He felt good inside her, just like she’d predicted, and she pumped her hips in appreciation, tensing her inner muscles.

“Sweet Lord,” Goodnight moaned, meeting her in a sloppy kiss.

Emma felt Billy move in atop her, his lips and teeth all over her shoulders. His cock nudged her hole, setting her nerve endings ablaze.

“Do it,” she whimpered, shaking all over.

She moaned when Billy pressed into her, reclaimed her, and for a moment she feared he wouldn’t fit because she was already stuffed full of Goodnight’s cock but then her body yielded to him. Billy slid in without resistance and Emma groaned. They were both throbbing inside her and apparently she wasn’t the only one to feel it, going by the way Goodnight’s thrusts became increasingly desperate. Pressed together like this he had no choice but to brush her pearl with every stroke, whipping the flames into a raging wildfire.

And then Billy shifted just a tiny bit, allowing Emma to angle her hips more into both of their thrusts and Goodnight’s cock hit her very own sweet spot dead on. A bolt of lust cracked through her whole body. She cried out as she came again, hard enough to make her vision go white, squeezing both cocks inside her hard.

Billy tumbled over the edge after her, hips stuttering in erratic jerks before he stopped, sighing into the nape of her neck as he flooded her insides with seed. She could feel it burn through her. Goodnight wasn’t there yet, he was holding her hips to keep her from moving, rutting into her wildly.

“Come on, Goody,” Billy whispered, half his weight resting atop Emma in languid bliss. “Fill her up so she’ll have both of us, so she can’t forget what we’ve done together. You can still feel me inside her, can’t you?”

Goodnight arched and whined beneath Emma, pulling her down to meet his next thrust and he came again with a broken sob against her throat.

They stayed like this, piled up in a heap of limbs, with Emma comfortably squished between the two men, floating in the warm haze of afterglow, listening to Goodnight’s heartbeat slowing. The low sunlight streaming in through the window had paled. They waited until the jagged edges of the hills and trees in the distance were swallowed by darkness before moving again, disentangling from each other.

Sighing happily, Emma stretched and brushed her hair out of her face. “Wow. That was... wow.”

Goodnight shot a smirk in Billy’s direction. “I think we met her expectations.”

Billy, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and fumbling with his pants, smirked back, and Emma bumped her fist into his shoulder.

“Exceeded them.”

He cocked his head. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It was one.” Emma slid off the bed to pull on her skirt. “We should do this again.”

“Forward, isn’t she?”, Billy asked. He found a pack of cigarettes and shook one out to offer it to her. Emma shook her head and he turned to Goodnight.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Goodnight chuckled, taking the cigarette. He watched Emma get dressed and tie her hair up again. “Sadly, Bogue will be here at noon tomorrow.”

“Then we will continue after we’ve beaten him,” Emma said matter-of-factly. “I will go down to join Mr. Chisolm at dinner. You coming?”

“In a minute,” said Billy.

Emma shrugged and slipped out the door, leaving the two men to share a quiet look. Then Billy pulled out the matches and lit one. “I admire her optimism.”


End file.
